


The Wedding of River Song

by mountain_born



Series: The Marvelous Tale of an Agent, an Archer, and an Assassin [50]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Doctor Who/Avengers Crossover Fusion, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 20:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18126335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountain_born/pseuds/mountain_born
Summary: "You do realize that we basically gave Tony Stark the go-ahead to plan our wedding."  Clint and River finally tie the knot with some help from their friends.





	The Wedding of River Song

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks and kudos to my beta, **like-a-raven,**. We both needed some fluff after this week!
> 
> We're picking up right where we left off in _The Queens Sacrifice_ , at Thanksgiving dinner at Stark Mansion. When I started this story, I wasn't quite sure how to approach it in a way that would make it something more than "Here are the details of Clint and River's wedding." But as I started writing, a very curious thing happened: Tony Stark stepped in and took over. It wound up providing some interesting background and insight.
> 
> The title is borrowed from the Doctor Who episode of the same name.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story. Thank you for reading.

_November 22, 2012_  
_Thanksgiving Day_  
_Stark Mansion, Long Island, New York_

After Thanksgiving dinner everyone was so full that they could barely move, even Steve and Thor. River thought that Valerie could chalk this holiday up as a victory. 

With so many people, the clearing away and tidying up didn’t take long. Then the entire party retired to the great room with coffee and tea. River looked around curiously. Stark Mansion had obviously been decorated with great care and attention, but it was also obvious that that care and attention had last been paid sometime in the early 1990s. That tracked with Stark’s comment about having closed the place up after his parents died. River had peeked in a few rooms on the ground floor and upstairs that morning, and seen furniture neatly covered with white sheets. This room, though, had been opened and aired for the occasion and was very comfortable even if the décor was dated.

Stark’s thoughts seemed to be moving along the same lines. “I really need to get a decorator in here if I’m going to start using this place,” he said as everyone found seats. “Mom went a little crazy with the florals.”

River wound up on a sofa between Clint and Amy. Amy seemed a little disinclined to let River out of her sight after her recent experience in Queens of the past. River didn’t mind. It was rather nice actually, after the distance of the last couple of months. 

Conversation bounced from football to Valerie’s turkey brining recipe to the highlights of the morning’s parade. The Doctor gave a rundown of Great Thanksgiving Dinners in History (all of which he had personally attended). Thor described a celebration of thanksgiving on Asgard that involved the fiery sacrifice of an effigy of a great bird.

The talk turned more earthbound when Pepper turned to River and Clint and asked, “So, how’s the wedding planning going?”

“Um.” River exchanged a rueful glance with Clint. “Rather stalled, honestly.”

“Stalled?” Rory asked. “Why?”

“Just that between one thing and another. . .well, it keeps getting pushed off,” River said.

First it had been the Battle of New York. Then Clint and Phil had both been recovering, Clint emotionally and Phil physically. Then forming the Avengers had taken up a lot of time and energy. Then Demons Run had happened, and River had really wanted to get back on speaking terms with Amy and Rory before moving forward with a wedding.

“There’s not even that much to plan,” Clint added. “We were figuring we’d just round everyone up, go get married, then take everyone out to dinner or something. But that’s hit a snag. Agent Vasquez warned us that since the Rising Tide outed us, we don’t really have a hope in hell of keeping that under the radar.”

Two of the Avengers marrying each other was going to be news. Favorable news maybe, but River and Clint would just as soon deflect as much attention as possible.

“We were thinking we might hold it somewhere at SHIELD HQ instead,” River said to Fury. “It would be more contained, and pretty much everyone we’re inviting works there in some capacity anyway. If you’d be amenable, sir.”

Fury opened his mouth, but Stark interrupted before he could answer. “I can think of a better solution than a SHIELD base,” he said.

“Oh?” River raised an eyebrow at him. “Such as?”

Stark raised an eyebrow right back at her. He didn’t say anything, just waved his arms expansively at their present surroundings. 

“You want us to get married here?” Clint asked after a moment.

“Sure. Why not?” Stark replied. “It sounds like you’re not talking about anything big or formal, right? Small guest list?”

“Right,” River said. “Basically, everyone in this room and a handful of others.”

“So there’s plenty of room here. We could have the ceremony in the ballroom. Or maybe the solarium?” he said to Pepper.

“The solarium might not be a little tight. The ballroom would probably be safer,” Pepper said, clearly warming to this idea. 

“Perfect. So that’s the venue locked down,” Stark said. “What else takes a long time with weddings?”

“The dress, usually,” Hill said. 

“I already have a dress,” River said. “I found one I liked a couple of months ago and went ahead and bought it. It’s blue,” she added. “If that matters.” 

In fact, she and Clint had had a good laugh when they’d realized that the dress River had chosen to get married in was the same shade of blue as the TARDIS.

“Okay, so the dress is a go,” Stark said. “What else? Food?”

“Oh!” Valerie’s hand actually shot into the air, much to Phil’s obvious amusement. “I can do the food.”

Clint looked doubtful. “You’re a guest, Valerie. We don’t want you to have to cook.”

“I would _love_ to cook,” Valerie said. And, indeed, she looked excited by the prospect. “And I already know my way around the kitchen here. Consider it my wedding gift.”

“And her cooking is excellent,” Thor added helpfully.

Stark grinned. “See? This is easy,” he said. “I’ll make you a deal. Let me take over the planning and I’ll have you guys married by Christmas. Pepper and Valerie can be my deputies. What do you say?”

Feeling a little like she was on a runaway horse, River looked to Amy, Rory, and the Doctor. “Could you make it to a Christmas wedding?” she asked.

“Of course,” Amy replied in unison with Rory’s, “Absolutely,” and the Doctor’s, “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Great. So, it’s all settled. Christmas wedding,” Stark said. “You two are responsible for rings, legal paperwork, dressing yourselves, and showing up. Leave everything else to us.”

*****

“You do realize,” River said later that night, “that we basically gave Tony Stark the go-ahead to plan our wedding.”

“I know.” Clint had been staring at the ceiling, contemplating that very thing while his book lay open and unread on his chest. He looked at River as she stepped out of the bathroom. “Is it weird if I’m cool with it?”

River finished rubbing lotion into her hands and shut off the bathroom light. She grinned crookedly at the question. “If you’re weird, then I am too.” She sat down on her side of the bed, tucking her legs comfortably underneath her. “Stark likes to act like a loose cannon, but he’s not going to do anything crazy. And even if he were inclined to, Valerie and Pepper would rein him in.”

“Yeah.” Clint set his book aside. “And clearly we suck at wedding planning or we would have planned one by now.”

“True enough. As long as I can make an honest fellow out of you, I am more than happy to let someone else obsess over color schemes and flowers. So, Christmas wedding it is.” River smiled playfully, leaned over, and kissed the end of his nose. 

Clint caught her before she could pull back, capturing her mouth with his. By the time they broke apart they were both a little out of breath and River’s eyes had gone very dark. The easy affection in them was underlaid by something far stronger and deeper, and Clint seriously wondered how the fuck he’d gotten so lucky. He traced his thumb over her cheek.

“Do you remember Christmas in Chicago?” he asked.

They had been there five years ago on a bust of an undercover mission. That had been before Avengers, before Time Lords, before he knew his partner was anything but an ordinary human spy with an extraordinary skill set. God, he’d been pining after River for months at that point. He’d tried to keep it hidden, sure that it would screw up their friendship if he let on because of course River wouldn’t be interested in him in that way. 

Clint had convinced himself of that right up until the point that they were walking back to their hotel on a freezing cold night. River had turned around, grabbed him by the front of his coat, and kissed him until he wasn’t sure which continent he was on. They’d gone straight up to River’s hotel room and never really looked back.

“I’m not likely to forget,” River said with a smile. “I don’t think we properly got all of our clothes off until our second go.” Her smile softened. “I remember it felt a little like regeneration: a terrifying freefall, knowing that life wouldn’t be the same when it stopped.”

Clint tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But worth the freefall?”

“Every bit of it.”

*****

“That was a kind thing you offered to do, Anthony.”

Meg Downing sat in a comfortable armchair by the cheerful fire in the great room’s hearth. Anthony was over at the bar, pouring drinks. He glanced up at her comment, then immediately shrugged it off.

“It’s no big deal,” he said. He carried the drinks over, handed Meg her scotch, and took the seat opposite her. “It’s not that much to plan. Barton’s right; if they try to pull off a wedding in the city right now, reporters are going to show up, and I can’t think of anything more depressing than getting married on a SHIELD base. Besides, we’re a team, right? That’s like one step removed from family.” Anthony hooked a toe under a nearby footstool and pulled it over. “And this house could use more good memories,” he added. “So, big Thanksgiving dinner, and now a Christmas wedding.”

Meg just nodded. It didn’t surprise her that Anthony would downplay what he was doing. Anthony was a generous boy, and always had been. It was one of his better qualities. But the more personal the gesture was, the less attention he liked to have drawn to it. He’d gladly donate a million dollars to a charity and show up at the gala and smile for the cameras. But for something like this? Arranging a small wedding for his new teammates? Meg could tell that just the simple _thank-yous_ from Clinton and River had made him slightly uncomfortable.

The house was very quiet. Anthony, Virginia, and Meg had elected to stay here for the night. Virginia had already gone to bed. She’d flown in from Berlin for the dinner, and jetlag combined with the Stark Industry meetings she’d been leading had caught up with her early. Meg sipped her drink and looked around the great room. She’d only ever been an occasional visitor to this house. Howard and Maria had bought it a few years after they’d gotten married. They last time Meg had been here overnight was after their car accident. Meg had stayed here with Anthony until after the funerals and had helped him get the place closed up.

Anthony was right. This house did need some better memories.

Before the ghosts could begin to circle too closely, Meg turned her mind back to the present project. “You know, even a small wedding is going to need an officiant. And seating. Music. Pictures would be nice.”

“No worries.” Anthony grinned. “I have ideas.”

*****

After some consultation, the date was officially set for December 21: Winter Solstice, the shortest day and longest night of the year. River found something very appealing about that deep down in an old Celtic pagan corner of her DNA. The longest, darkest night of deep midwinter might seem like an ominous choice to some, but that was only because they didn’t look at it properly. That long night marked the point at which light started coming back to the world. After the year they’d been through, River appreciated that message, even if it was accidental.

Invitations went out and answers came back almost immediately, often by people catching her or Clint in the hallways at SHIELD to say that of course they’d come. River hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said that almost everyone they planned to invite had been at Thanksgiving, but there were a few others: Dr. Levine. Kaye Davis from the SHIELD library. Agent Nadine Washington from Fury’s office. Melinda May. Bobbi Morse.

Pepper did raise one slightly sticky question.

“Clint’s brother definitely isn’t coming?” she asked as she and River grabbed coffee at the SHIELD HQ Starbucks.

River nodded as they took seats at a tiny table. “He and Barney talked about it. They decided it’s a little too much a little too soon. They only just reconnected; they’re still getting to know each other again. Besides, asking a family with three kids to travel long distance for a wedding that close to Christmas is asking a bit much.”

“That’s understandable.” Pepper made some notes on her data pad. She hid it against her chest when River tried to lean over to take a look. “No peeking! Tony wants most of this to be a surprise.”

River laughed and sat back. “He’s really getting into this, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Pepper grinned. “And it’s good for him. It’s definitely better for him than locking himself in his workshop and obsessing over armor. I wanted to thank you and Clint for letting him do this.”

River blinked in surprise. “It’s us that should be thanking him. And you and Valerie.”

Pepper shook her head. “No. Most people would have heard Tony Stark say _let me plan your wedding_ and run screaming in the other direction. You guys didn’t. He’d never say it, but it means a lot to him that you’d trust him with this.”

River caught a number of underlying meanings behind Pepper’s words. “How’s he doing?” she asked. 

Stark’s trip through the wormhole over New York and what he’d seen on the other side had left the man deeply shaken. From what River had observed, anxiety in Tony Stark tended to manifest as manic productivity, and she’d wondered if that had anything to do with his foray into the world of wedding planning.

“He’s doing a lot better,” Pepper said. River was a pretty good judge of when someone was telling the truth, and she estimated that Pepper’s assertion was only about a quarter lie and wishful thinking. “Honestly, I think having the Avengers has helped him a lot. In fact, he’s getting the whole team involved in the planning.”

This was news to River. “He is? Doing what?”

Pepper just smiled. River eyed her, then nodded. “Right. Surprise.”

*****

Of course, River and Clint weren’t completely in the dark. Stark was keeping a lot of the details classified, but they were asked to consult a fair amount.

River saw a missed call from Stark on her phone a few days later during a break in a training session. She took a long drink of her water, sat down on the bench, and called him back. 

“Song! Question for you,” Stark said immediately on answering. “Scotland. Good?”

River was silent for a moment, trying to parse the question. “As far as I know, Scotland is fine. Why do you ask?”

Stark snorted. “I mean for the wedding. Is Scotland something you want to incorporate? I’m experimenting with themes here.”

River didn’t even want to know what a wedding theme experiment looked like. “Sure, I guess. Maybe not full-tilt Scotland.” After all, Clint was American. “But some Scotland is fine.”

“Give me a range. How Scotland is too Scotland?”

River thought for a moment. “Moderate use of tartan and Celtic knots is good. Kilts and bagpipes are too much.”

“Right.” Stark sounded like he was taking notes. “I can run with that. Hey, do the Ponds have a tartan?”

“I have no idea. You’d have to ask Amy.”

“Cool. I need to catch her about some mother-of-the-bride stuff anyway.”

A few days later Clint’s phone buzzed while he and River were in their shared office catching up on some reports. Clint frowned at the screen and answered.

“Hey, Stark. What’s up?”

River saw Clint’s eyebrows climb. “Religious?” He looked over at River with a slight _the fuck?_ expression. “No, we aren’t really religious. Why do you ask?”

She watched over the edge of her file while Clint listened to Stark’s side of the conversation. 

“Oh, that. No, we were just planning to go with a justice of the peace or something,” Clint said. “Or. . .yeah? He really wants to do that?” There was another stretch of silence. “If he’s cool with it, sure. Yeah, if he wants to swing out to the base for lunch, we’ll be around. Yeah, thanks. You, too.”

River wasn’t even bothering to try to mask her curiosity by the time Clint hung up. “What is it?” she asked.

“Stark’s found an officiant for us.”

*****

“So, it turns out that getting ordained online is really easy,” Banner said as they got settled at a table in the SHIELD mess hall. “I just filled out a form and paid a fee, and I can legally perform weddings.”

“You know, Banner,” Clint said with a grin, “I’ve had friends break me out of enemy fortresses and friends who’ve kept me from bleeding out when SHIELD Medical was taking its sweet time showing up. I’m pretty sure you’re the first friend who’s ever gotten _ordained_ for me.”

Banner blushed, but he looked pleased. “I’m happy to do it. I know Tony doesn’t want you to have to worry about any of the planning, but I wanted to talk to you about what the ceremony should look like.”

Banner took notes while Clint and River talked. If Banner was going to embark on a side career of performing weddings, River thought, she and Clint were starting him off pretty easy. The ceremony was to be secular but relatively traditional, not too long, and rings would be exchanged. Banner nodded along, asking questions at various points. 

“Out of curiosity,” River said once Banner had his notes together, “Pepper mentioned that Tony was getting all of the Avengers involved in this. So, if you’re acting as the officiant. . .” She let the question trail, hoping that Banner would pick it up.

He did.

“Yeah. Well, Tony’s doing the overall planning, obviously. I’m officiating,” Banner said. “Steve’s in charge of the music. JARVIS is helping him with that; there’s a lot of iTunes to go through when you’re still getting caught up on modern stuff.”

“And Thor?” Clint asked.

“He’s in charge of setting up this ceremonial thing. It’s an old Asgardian wedding custom, apparently. Nothing bad,” Banner assured them. “Actually, it sounds like it’s going to be pretty cool. It’s supposed to be a surprise, though, so you didn’t hear it from me.”

“We know nothing,” River assured him, exchanging an amused glance with Clint.

December 21 was shaping up to be a very interesting day indeed.

*****

“Frankly, if I had known what a good team-building exercise this would be, I would have made them plan a party together a long time ago,” Phil said.

He heard Valerie laugh on the other end of the line. “It’s human nature. There’s nothing like a major life event to bring people together.”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard some horror stories about dysfunctional family weddings, a lot of them from you.”

“Then take this as a good sign that your team is functional,” Valerie said. “And speaking of the wedding, I need a favor.”

“Sure. What?” Phil asked.

“I need you to help me get a package into SHIELD Headquarters.”

Two days later, Phil was in his office wrapping up his work day when Clint called his cell phone. “Hello?” Phil said.

“The mail room just delivered four cakes to our quarters.” Clint sounded mildly perplexed.

“Yeah?”

“They’re from Valerie.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you keep saying _yeah_ like it’s normal to get a box full of dry ice and cake?” Clint asked.

“Valerie’s making your wedding cake,” Phil said as he shut down his computer. “If you order a wedding cake from a bakery they have you try different kinds to see what you like. She wanted you and River to be able to do the same thing.”

Valerie had briefly conferred with Clint and River about the cake at Thanksgiving, just to rule out anything that they definitely didn’t want. River had demurred on the traditional British fruitcake since most of the guests were American and “I think it’s one of those things you have to grow up with.” That had still left the field pretty wide open on flavors. Phil knew for a fact that Valerie was having fun with this. He’d had to talk her out of sending eight samples instead of four.

“She knows she doesn’t have to go to this much trouble, right?” Clint protested. “I figured she’d just pick something.”

“You’ve met Valerie,” Phil pointed out. The woman didn’t do anything half-assed.

“True,” Clint said. “Well, do you have plans for dinner? We have four sample cakes to get through. There’s. . .” Phil heard a brief rustle of paper. “Italian cream cake, gingerbread cake, hummingbird cake, and tiramisu cake. It’s like a diabetic episode waiting to happen. You can help us vote.”

“I’ll be right over.”

*****

December 21 arrived without any personal, foreign, domestic, or intergalactic crises. Tony wouldn’t admit it, but he’d been holding his breath. But aside from what was becoming normal SHIELD business and Avengers training, the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas had been busy but uneventful. And his wedding planning had gone off without a hitch, if he did say so himself.

Even the weather was cooperating. It was cold, but clear and sunny. A few of inches of snow had fallen, coating the ground and trees, enough to be pretty but not enough to be inconvenient. The road between here and SHIELD Headquarters was fine. The ceremony would start in a couple of hours at sunset, and Tony knew from experience that the view from the ballroom windows would be spectacular.

Tony took a deep breath and blew out a cloud of steam. “The day couldn’t be more perfect,” he said.

“I know,” a cheerful voice behind him replied. “I had to tweak a storm system or two, and then head off a warm spell that would have turned everything to mud. Tricky, but worth it.”

Tony turned to see the Doctor putting the finishing touches on a pair of vaguely bride-and-groom-shaped snow people. “Are you actually taking credit for the weather?” he asked the Time Lord.

“Well, you did ask me to,” the Doctor said, brushing his mittened hands together. “Something about making sure it was picturesque.”

“Yeah, but. . .” Tony had totally been kidding when he’d made that request. Maybe the Doctor was pulling his leg now, but there was also compelling evidence that he could swing something like that. Tony just clapped him on the shoulder. “Excellent job.”

“Thank you.”

Tony and the Doctor turned to head back to the house’s kitchen entrance. “So, the honeymoon is locked down, right?” Tony asked. That had been the _actual_ job he’d assigned to the Doctor.

“It is. There’s a lovely little self-catering cottage on the Balmoral estate. It’s hard to book at the last minute, but Lilibet owed me a favor. I’ll pop them over when they’re ready to go this evening and pick them up in a few days.”

Inside they were met with warmth and smells that made Tony’s stomach growl in spite of the fact that he’d had a late lunch. “I’m going to see how things are going with the food,” he said.

“I’m going to look in on Amy and Rory.”

He and the Doctor parted company and Tony veered into the kitchen. He quickly stepped out of the way of the two assistants he’d brought in from the Stark Industries events crew for the occasion. They were here to help Valerie, who had arrived yesterday and taken over the kitchen.

Tony hadn’t thought it would be possible for Valerie to outdo the Thanksgiving dinner she had produced, but he was pretty sure he was losing that bet. Valerie had spent yesterday on the wedding cake; dark gingerbread with some sort of bourbon butter frosting. She had also churned out a batch of little mincemeat pies with hearts cut into the tops, a nod to River’s British heritage. Today the kitchen was pervaded by the smell of prime rib slowly roasting in the oven. Tony idly wondered how much it would cost to persuade Valerie to move to New York and sign on as a personal chef.

Just now Valerie was at the counter measuring out flour. (She had said something about Yorkshire pudding.) She looked like she was concentrating, so Tony walked down to the far end of the kitchen island where Agent Coulson was sitting. Coulson was in his shirtsleeves, bent over a pan of sugar cookies with a piping bag of icing and a look of intense concentration. Tony stopped alongside him and watched for a few seconds. 

“Don’t say it,” Coulson said without looking up.

“Nice,” Tony grinned.

“I mean it.”

“No, really.” Tony cocked his head to study the finished cookies. “They have that authentic _I was decorated by a five-year-old_ look.”

Coulson sat up with a sigh of impatience. “Look, I have never claimed to have any artistic talent whatsoever,” he said. “Of course, I also don’t have any culinary talent, so this is what I can contribute.”

“Eh, you’re the best man. You have a job.” Tony helped himself to a cookie, a stocking with very haphazard stripes. It tasted just fine. “How’s Valerie holding up?”

“Are you kidding? She’s having the time of her life,” Coulson said.

Tony nodded, watching as Valerie issued some instructions to her assistants and opened the oven to check the roast. “So, why don’t you guys get married?” he asked.

Coulson rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Stark. . .”

“I’m just saying, you guys seem great on paper. And off paper.”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Fine.” 

_For now, anyway_ , Tony thought. It turned out he was a genius at wedding planning. Maybe he’d give matchmaking a try next.

Tony left the kitchen and moved on to see how everything else was shaping up. The dining room was ready to go for dinner. The ballroom had been decorated with greenery and little white fairy lights, and chairs had been set up in a semi-circle for the guests. When Tony looked in, Pepper was directing Rogers to shift some potted evergreens to better spots. Tony ducked out again quickly before he could be press-ganged into helping. Pepper had a super soldier—that was more than enough muscle.

His next stop was the great room. Bruce was pacing in front of the fireplace, talking to himself and shuffling notecards. On a second look, Tony realized that he wasn’t actually talking to himself. Aunt Meg was there, sitting on the sofa and listening. Tony grinned. Bruce was a little nervous about the whole “officiate a wedding” thing, but if anyone could give him some pointers about grace under pressure, it would be Aunt Meg. Tony left them to it. 

Tony paused in the hallway to check the newly-installed computer interface he’d put in just last week. “JARVIS, how are you settling in?”

“Quite comfortably, sir,” JARVIS replied. “And I’m tied in to the main network in Stark Tower. I have access to all files.”

“Good deal. What’s the status of the paparazzi?”

“I’ve been putting them through their paces, taking pictures of the preparations.” 

On cue a small black drone, not much bigger than Tony’s hand, appeared hovering silently in midair in front of him. Tony heard a soft, tell-tale click and then the drone buzzed off again. The little drone and its five buddies would the handling the wedding pictures; much less obtrusive than a human photographer.

“Good deal. And the music?”

“Captain Rogers uploaded his playlists this morning,” JARVIS said. 

“How’s your girlfriend?”

“If you are referring to the TARDIS, sir, she is well. It’s a pleasure to be able to interface with an intelligence of such unprecedented scope and experience.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally,” Tony said.

JARVIS apparently wasn’t touching that one. “Call from the gate, sir. Agents Song and Barton have arrived.”

When Tony made his way outside, Song and Barton had parked and were getting suitcases and garment bags out of the trunk. They were planned to get ready here at the mansion instead of out at the base. “Need a hand?” Tony asked.

Song smiled and let Tony take her suitcase. “How’s everything going?” she asked.

“Like clockwork,” Tony replied. “I think you guys will be pleased.”

He really hoped they would be, though he’d never admit it. Tony had never been much for outward sentiment. Half the time he wasn’t one for inward sentiment, either. But this was an important day for his teammates, and they’d basically let him hijack it. He wanted them to be happy with the results.

“Um. . .” Barton drifted to a halt, staring off at the side yard.

Tony followed his gaze. “What’s wrong, Barton. You’ve never seen a woodpile before?”

The large pile of wood in the side yard had been brought down from Asgard that morning, with a little import help from the Doctor and the TARDIS. It was from some kind of special Asgardian tree with an unpronounceable name. Thor and Rory were out there now, arranging the wood in three cone-shaped stacks. 

“Are we burning someone at the stake tonight?” Barton asked. 

“That’s classified. At least until after the ceremony,” Tony said. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here. JARVIS?” Tony tapped his earpiece. “Let Amy know that the bride and groom are incoming.”

*****

Phil and Amy were waiting for Clint and River in the foyer when Stark ushered them inside. Amy, like Clint and River, was in casual clothes. Phil was already wearing his suit trousers and dress shirt, but his sleeves were rolled up and he had a smear of what looked to River like frosting in his left eyebrow.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Stark said when he saw them. He swept an arm at Amy and Phil. “Meet your welcoming committee. They’ll show you guys where you can get ready.”

“We have a couple of rooms set up for you,” Amy said, taking River’s suitcase from Stark. “River, I’ll help you. Phil’s in charge of Clint.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go to that kind of trouble,” River said. Neither of them needed any elaborate prep work. “We can get ready on our own. Clint can zip me up.”

“Ah, oh no he can’t,” Tony said. “It’s bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other right before the ceremony. We’re aiming for virtue and propriety, here.”

Clint raised his eyebrows. He leaned over to River and stage-whispered, “They know we’ve seen each other naked, right?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “I’m ignoring that,” she said. “Phil, you’ve got him?”

Phil was clearly stifling laughter. “Yeah, I’ve got him. Come on, kid.” He clapped Clint on the shoulder. “Your room’s this way.”

Phil led Clint off to a guest room on the ground floor while Amy led River to one upstairs. “I know you probably don’t need any help,” Amy said. “But do you mind if I do? I’d really like to.”

“I don’t mind at all,” River said. Traditionally it was a mother-of-the-bride sort of job, after all.

Maybe Stark had the right idea, River thought as Amy helped her into her wedding dress. Clint had seen her dress, but she’d drawn the line at letting him see her _in_ it before the ceremony. The dress wasn’t exactly conventional. It was deep blue and wouldn’t have looked out of place at one of the parties she’d attended in the 1950s with its full, tea-length skirt, wide neck, and elbow sleeves. Then again, she wasn’t exactly a conventional person, so it was fitting.

She also wasn’t bothering with a veil of any sort. Amy helped River put her hair up in a loose coil, held in place with some pretty pins. Amy stepped back and looked River up and down with her hands on her hips.

“Clint isn’t going to know what hit him,” she said. 

River grinned. “Thanks.”

While River settled down at the bedroom vanity to do her makeup, Amy went across the hall to get ready herself. River was finished by the time Amy came back. Amy caught River’s eye in the vanity mirror and River heard her clear her throat quietly. River turned as Amy stepped forward.

“I brought you a present,” Amy said. She looked uncharacteristically hesitant as she held out a small box.

River accepted the box and opened it curiously. Inside was a worn silver sixpence.

“For your shoe. I wasn’t sure if you’d have one handy,” Amy said. “It’s the one from my wedding. I sort of had this idea that I’d keep it and pass it along if. . .well, I’m just doing it earlier than planned, that’s all.”

River stood up and hugged her. “Thank you, Amy.”

“Yeah, well.” Amy hugged her back. “What’s your mum for, anyway?”

There was a soft tap at the door and Rory poked his head in. 

“It’s almost showtime, you two. Are you ready?”

Amy looked at River. “Ready?”

River nodded. “Ready.”

*****

“Damn,” Clint said, undoing his tie for the third time. Ten-plus years of having a handle on this skill (not that he needed it that often) and today of all days he couldn’t quite get it right.

“Do you need some help?” Phil asked.

“Nah,” Clint said automatically. He looked at the ends of his tie and sighed. “Maybe,” he added.

“Here.” Phil waved him over. “I’ve got it.”

Clint held still while Phil straightened out his tie for him. For a split second he was a nineteen-year-old probationary agent again, and his new handler was requiring him to learn how to do this.

Clint had never worn a suit and tie in his life before he’d been recruited by SHIELD, and he hadn’t really expected that to change. He’d been brought in to be a sniper. He was muscle with a bow or a long-range rifle. But Phil had insisted that he needed a suit. Not only had he insisted, he’d basically forced Clint into the car, driven him to the store, and made him get fitted for his first one. 

_“You’re much more than a hired gun. There are going to be times you’ll want to look professional,”_ Phil had said when Clint had protested. Clint didn’t mind admitting that he’d been a pain-in-the-ass in his early SHIELD days, but Phil had never lost his patience or his sense of humor. From day one Phil had given a damn about him. Clint hadn’t known what to do with that in the beginning. Now he wasn’t sure what he’d ever do without it.

Phil might have been thinking along the same lines. He finished doing up Clint’s tie and then straightened Clint’s jacket. “You know how proud I am of you, right, kid?”

Clint quickly grinned. “You mean for finding someone who’s willing to live with me for the next fifty or sixty years?”

“Not _exactly_ what I meant,” Phil said, smiling tolerantly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Clint said. “And I know.”

Of course, he knew.

“Good.” Phil shrugged on his own jacket and checked his watch. “Looks like we’re getting close to go-time.”

“Yeah.” Clint took a deep, bracing breath and blew it out before he could stop himself. 

Phil looked amused. “Nervous?”

“A little. I mean, not about getting married.” He and River had basically been married for years now. 

Phil nodded in understanding. “But being the center of attention at a ceremony is not your thing.”

“Right.” Clint knew Phil would get it. “But I’m glad we’re doing it this way. I think it’s wound up being important to everybody.”

Especially to Tony Stark, of all people. Sure, he kept saying it was no trouble, but come on. Pulling off a wedding, even a small one, was trouble. And from what Clint had seen, Stark had done a really good job. It wasn’t just Stark, either. The whole team had thrown themselves into this.

Someone knocked on the door. “Come on in,” Clint said. 

Steve opened the door. “Guys, it’s about time.”

“Right.” Clint straightened his jacket. He nodded at Phil. “Let’s do this.”

*****

The Doctor had donned his top hat and tails and took up his post in the foyer of the great house to greet and direct the wedding guests.

Half of them were already here, of course, running about and tending to last minute details or getting ready for the ceremony themselves. But there were several guests coming out from the SHEILD base, some of whom the Doctor had met and some that he knew from River and Clint’s descriptions. Nick Fury and Maria Hill came together. Dr. Judith Levine, Agent Angela Moretti, and Agent Nadine Washington arrived with their respective husbands. There was a carpool of three women, only one of whom, SHIELD librarian Kaye Davis, the Doctor had met before. The others he recognized by name: Agent Melinda May and Agent Bobbi Morse. The Doctor directed them to the ballroom then pulled his notebook out of his pocket and marked the names off his list. 

“Everyone present and accounted for, Doctor?”

The Doctor looked up to find Meg Downing standing in the center of the foyer watching him with a faintly enigmatic smile. The Doctor loved a good enigma.

“I think so.” The Doctor tucked his notebook back into his pocket. “It’s almost time for the nuptials to get underway.”

“Good,” she said. “Escort a lady in, won’t you?”

That was how the Doctor found himself sitting with Director Meg Downing at the wedding of River Song and Clint Barton.

The Doctor had been to thousands of weddings in his time (his own and other peoples). He couldn’t say if River and Clint’s was any more or less traditional than any other, because at the end of the day _traditional_ was all a matter of perspective. What he could say was that it was one of the happiest he’d been to. It was up there with Amy and Rory’s. 

There wasn’t any walking-down-the-aisle, _per se_. Clint came in first, escorted by Phil. River followed, with Amy and Rory walking on either side of her. The two families came together before Dr. Banner, in front of the ballroom’s massive fireplace. 

Bruce had looked a little jittery the last time the Doctor had peeked in, but now he seemed cool and collected, even enjoying himself. The Doctor was a little curious as to what kind of wedding ceremony the man would perform. He wasn’t exactly the village vicar. They probably weren’t in for the bog-standard, _Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in sight of God and these witnesses._

“When I first met Clint and River,” Bruce said, “I had no idea at the time that I was meeting people who would become my teammates and my friends. I certainly could never have imagined that seven months later I’d have the honor standing in front of all of you, about to marry them.”

The Doctor didn’t doubt that that was the literal truth. The Doctor had recognized a certain look in Bruce back when he’d first met him. Bruce had been a man who had made up his mind to live out his life alone. The Avengers had changed that. 

“Probability is a strange thing,” Bruce continued. “From a purely scientific standpoint, the laws of probability use mathematics to predict the outcomes of events. I actually sat down and tried to work out the math on all of us in this room being gathered here together for this wedding. Let’s just say the odds were long.” 

Several people, including the Doctor, chuckled. Bruce paused for a beat before moving on.

“Which just goes to remind us that in life you have to look beyond the math, because here we are. We are gathered here tonight in a wonderful celebration of improbability and in defiance of great odds.” Bruce smiled at Clint and River. “We are witnesses to the fact that sometimes when two people are meant to be together, not even Time and Space can stand in the way.”

As the ceremony moved on to the vows, the Doctor’s eyes strayed to Amy and Rory who were standing hand-in-hand as they watched their daughter get married. He felt his heart swell with pride. Nothing would ever make up for losing the life Amy and Rory might have had with their child, but the Ponds persevered. 

“Strength is clearly a family trait,” Meg Downing said, just loud enough for the Doctor to hear. He glanced at her in surprise. Was his train of thought so obvious? It usually wasn’t. Not to humans, anyway.

The Doctor was distracted by cheers. He turned his attention back to the front of the room in time to see River and Clint break apart from their kiss, laughing. Bruce, grinning, waved everyone into silence.

“We actually have one final piece of the ceremony,” he said, “and you’re going to want your coats for it. Everyone, please follow Thor.”

Thor, decked out in Asgardian finery, ushered everyone into the foyer to bundle up, and then outside onto the lawn where two great bonfires blazed under the clear night sky and the waxing moon. A third, unlit pile of wood stood between the two fires. Thor stood in front of that one and addressed the group.

“On Asgard, as on Midgard, marriage represents the commitment of two people to share a life and a home. The center of the home is the hearth fire.”

“They must have some pretty big hearths on Asgard,” the Doctor heard Agent Morse whisper to Agent May. 

“They grow everything else big there,” Agent May whispered back. The Doctor risked a sidelong glance at the two women and smothered a grin. 

Meg Downing followed his gaze. “Thor seemed to have made a very favorable impression.”

“Quite,” the Doctor said.

“It’s the arms,” she said with certainty. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her, but her attention was focused again on the ceremony playing out before them.

The symbolism of the Asgardinan hearth fire ceremony was very straightforward. The bride took a flaming torch from her fire, the groom took one from his, and together they lit the center fire. It was what happened then that set the ceremony a bit apart. The Doctor watched as Thor guided River and Clint through lighting their combined hearth fire. The bonfire burned normally for a few seconds before the properties of the Asgardian wood (some might call it chemicals, others might say magic) were released. 

The fire blazed brighter and higher, the flames turning multicolored. The assembled party stepped back a bit as clouds of sparks started to erupt from the fire until the night sky over the mansion was obscured by colorful, waving bands of light. 

_“Aurora borealis,”_ Meg remarked. 

“Similar,” the Doctor replied. “The stronger and more varied the light, the more auspicious the union is said to be. This one would be judged exceptionally fortuitous.”

“Superstition,” Meg said. “But superstition and reality have been known to intersect.”

“They do sometimes at that.”

*****

After the hearth fire ceremony, dinner, and wedding cake, everyone retired back to the ballroom where the chairs had been discretely moved to the sides and the music had been queued up.

The music seemed to be a hit, much to Steve’s relief. Honestly, he’d felt more pressure over being put in charge of this part of Clint and River’s wedding than he felt before going into battle. He’d half suspected Tony of poking some fun at him when he’d given him this assignment. Even now, more than a year after coming out of the ice, Steve’s grasp of modern pop culture was a weak in some areas. After all, he had seventy-years-worth of music, movies, books, and television to catch up on, and he was a busy guy. 

Steve had concluded pretty quickly, though, that Tony had been on the up-and-up. He’d been giving all of the Avengers jobs, wanted all of them involved in making sure Clint and River had a nice wedding. Steve could get behind that. He’d accepted his assignment and started work with the same determination he’d thrown into his basic Army training. He’d started with what he knew (popular 1940s big band and dance music) and gone from there. With a lot of help from JARVIS and a few phone calls to his friend Antoine Triplett he’d managed to pull together a collection of songs that at the very least no one found ridiculous or objectionable. People were even dancing.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding. You are really bad at this,” River said good-naturedly.

“I tried to warn you,” Steve laughed as River steered him through a very basic turn. He’d quickly given up and let her lead. “Pretty much everything I know about dancing I learned by sitting on the sidelines and watching Bucky.”

He’d fully intended to maintain his wallflower status tonight, but River had asked him to dance and, well, you really couldn’t refuse the bride on her wedding day, right? At least she didn’t seem to mind his two left feet.

“There’s still plenty of time for you to learn,” River said as the song ended and they drifted back over to where Clint, Meg, May, and Thor were talking.

“I think ninety-five might be a little old to pick it up.”

“No way,” Clint said. He grinned, took River’s hand, and spun her in a graceful circle. “If I could learn, anyone can. River taught me. She can definitely give you some pointers. And you should look into the SHIELD dance elective.”

“SHIELD has a _dance elective?”_

“How else do you infiltrate an embassy ball?” River said before she and Clint whisked smoothly back out onto the dance floor.

“Agent May? Would you do me the honor?” Thor asked. 

That left Steve and Meg standing together. “Sidelined again,” Steve said. He meant it as a joke, but it came out sounding a little more wistful than he intended.

“Not necessarily,” Meg replied. She hooked her cane over the back of a chair and held out her hand. “I’m willing to bet I can still show the children a thing or two.”

Steve took her hand hesitantly. Yeah, he had watched Meg and Bucky out-dance every other couple in a few London clubs, but that had been a long time ago. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry, Steve.” Meg smiled. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Eventually the party did start to wind down, but no one seemed to be in much of a hurry to go home. Clint and River left on the TARDIS for their honeymoon, but the Doctor popped back after dropping them off in Scotland. Snow had started to fall on Long Island, and everyone eventually migrated into the great room with its roaring fireplace. They sat in small groups on the comfortable, overstuffed furniture with drinks or coffee and second slices of wedding cake. It felt pleasant. Homey, even.

And yet Steve couldn’t settle. The back of his neck itched. Eventually he set aside his cup of coffee and got up out of his chair, drifting to the nearby window. He looked out into the night. There were a few soft outdoor lights illuminating the yard, but beyond that was flat darkness where the tree line was. Steve stared out into it for a long moment before reaching for the cord and pulling the curtains across the window.

He didn’t think anyone would notice, but when he turned Meg was watching him with bemusement. Steve blushed. 

“Tactical thinking. It’s hard to shake I guess,” he said, feeling like he needed offer some kind of explanation. 

Brightly-lit windows at night were good targets. Never mind the fact that there was no actual danger. Not here. Not tonight.

Meg just shrugged and smiled in understanding. “Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean there’s not someone hiding in the woods watching you through a scope.”

Steve laughed. “Something like that,” he said. 

One of these days, maybe he’d shake the war. It just wasn’t going to be today.

*****

This wasn’t the first time James had spent a December night spying on Stark Mansion.

The last time he’d been here he’d been sent with orders to kill, and he had carried out those orders with brutal efficiency. This time his orders were simply to observe. James had found a good vantage point just before sundown, a wide sloping branch halfway up a tree where he could stretch out on his stomach, the barrel of his rifle resting in a convenient crook. He had settled in, watching the house and its occupants through the scope. Madame Kovarian wanted a full account of the wedding of Melody Pond.

James occasionally wondered why Kovarian played this little one-sided game with Melody. The Silence had known her whereabouts for a long time. They could swoop in and take her at any point, Avengers or no Avengers. But Kovarian only wanted intel right now. She wanted Melody and her close associates watched and to be kept apprised of her movements. 

Deep down, James was glad for that. Melody seemed happy in the life she’d made for herself. It would be a shame if the Silence interfered. But that sort of thought was borderline traitorous, and James tamped it down immediately. Indulging in thoughts like that would end with him being sent to Dr. Weatherby’s lab for treatment. 

Kovarian had something much bigger planned than just taking Melody back. She had hinted at it to James, but so far it was only hints. It wasn’t his place to ask about those plans. James simply did as he was told.

James watched as Melody and her new husband engaged in a strange ritual lighting of bonfires. He watched as, later, they boarded the TARDIS with the Doctor and left. He held his position, watching the house. The people here now were Melody’s nearest and dearest. Any information that could be gleaned about them would be useful to the Silence.

He remained even as snow began to fall. The weather wasn’t a distraction. He’d been born amid the snow for all intents and purposes. The Silence had found him in the snow years ago, abandoned and near death. They called him the Winter Soldier as much as they called him by his name. Madame Kovarian had started that.

People passed back and forth in front of the windows of a large reception room. James watched curiously as Captain Rogers stood in front of one of them, arms folded, staring out toward the woods. 

_You’re a long way from being that skinny kid from Brooklyn._ James shook his head, his concentration momentarily broken. Where had that thought come from?

When he put his eye back to the scope, Rogers was gone and the curtains had been pulled. James’ comm clicked to life in his ear. 

“Report, James,” Madame Kovarian said.

“The wedding is over, ma’am. Melody Pond has left. I’ve been monitoring the others.”

“Good. That will do for tonight, James. Fall back to the rendezvous point for pick up. I’m looking forward to hearing your report.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

James efficiently broke down his rifle and slid silently out of the tree, landing lightly on the snow-covered ground. He spared one look back at Stark Mansion before slipping away into the woods.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said this would be fluff. But I am apparently incapable of producing fluff without tacking a creepy coda onto the end.
> 
> Next up we'll be exploring Bucky's story in _The Winter's Tale._


End file.
